


Truth Lacks Lyricism

by Byacolate



Category: Borderlands
Genre: Agender Character, Asexual Relationship, Asexuality Spectrum, Established Relationship, Fluff, Other, Schmoop, romance isn't dead; it's just been half-digested by a skag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-26
Updated: 2015-10-26
Packaged: 2018-04-28 05:56:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5080318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Byacolate/pseuds/Byacolate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rhys hopes he isn’t as red as he thinks he is. Somewhere between cherry and fire engine. A special shade they’d market and package as “Rhys-Red” or “The Opposite of Cool”.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Truth Lacks Lyricism

He’s tinkering with his new arm at the coffee table when he hears it. The knock on his door is muted, two light taps in quick succession, and Rhys practically falls over himself to answer. He knows who it is; he always does.

 

It’s quiet in the hall, and Zer0’s footsteps are just as silent when Rhys steps aside for them. “You’re back,” he says, shutting the door behind them. “All in one piece, too. That’s ideal.”

 

A tilt to their head toward Rhys is a reminder of the detached cables and unplugged ports of his empty arm socket. “Well, one of us should be,” he jokes. It falls flat between them, but Zer0 turns to survey the apartment instead of (probably) making awkward eye contact any longer than necessary. They take in the arm on the table, the half-empty pizza box, and the screwdriver in Rhys’ hand before he hastily tosses it onto the coffee table. Predictably, it clatters too loudly and rolls off to the floor on the other side.

 

“So.” Rhys clears his throat. “You… here to see more of my smooth moves, or…?”

 

Zer0 can‘t kiss him with the mask, and if he‘s honest with himself, Rhys doesn‘t even know if they‘d want to. Disappointing, in a way, but they make do. Rhys is pretty okay with the way Zer0 comes in real close, two fingers to Rhys’ jaw, and the other two to the pulse in his throat. He’s dating an assassin, and a Vault Hunter besides - it should probably be scarier than it is to have them literally at his neck. And it is, a little. Scary. But. Not the kind of scary Rhys is used to.

 

He’s less afraid he’s gonna die if Zer0 keeps touching him, and more afraid that the opposite is true.

 

When Zer0 feels the fluttering of Rhys’ pulse, a red smile projects from their shielded face, and it makes Rhys smile in turn.

 

The pad of their thumb traces Rhys’ lower lip, and it feels a little like a kiss.

 

Or maybe Rhys is just a sap.

 

“I see you thinking. Transparency is a vice. But for you, a charm.”

 

“Ohh my god,” Rhys breathes, hoping against hope that he isn’t as red as he thinks he is. Somewhere between cherry and fire engine. A special shade they’d package and market as “ _Rhys-Red_ ” or “ _The Opposite of Cool”_. “That's, um. You’re… you’re a real sweet-talker. Anyone ever tell you that?”

 

Zer0’s head tilts the barest fraction of an inch to the side. “No.”

 

“Oh. Uh. Well, they should. Have. Should have. Not now, maybe, because we’re… y’know.” Zer0’s thumb slips over to the side of his mouth and he swallows. “I’m gonna stop talking now.”

 

His own hand hangs uselessly at his side until it’s suddenly, inexplicably at Zer0’s waist. And that just feels pointless and awkward, so he moves it to Zer0’s hip instead. There’s a belt there, so that’s weird. It’s a little less weird to slide it up the long column of Zer0’s spine when a hand slips through his hair, because that’s nice. Like, really, really nice.

 

Days and weeks have passed since Zer0 last disappeared on an assignment. Though, maybe that’s unfair. They didn’t disappear, exactly. Or they did, but… they also left a note, so it’s sort of okay. At least they didn’t lie about it. Apparently, that sort of thing is worse, if you listen to Springs’ side of things.

 

Vault Hunters, though. What can you do?

 

 _Hope they come back safe, and find a shitload of guns if they don’t,_ comes Janey’s voice in his head, unbidden. It’s a nice enough voice, but Rhys doesn’t want to think about vengeful lesbian crusades when Zer0 has one hand sliding through his hair, and another thumbing at something on his cheek. He hopes it’s grease for his arm, and not from pizza slices one-through-six.

 

“How was the, uh. The job?” he asks, definitely not heavy-eyed or swaying on his feet from both exhaustion and the shivers Zer0’s hands ignite through his spine down to his jelly legs.

 

“Successful,” Zer0 says.

 

Rhys laughs a little breathlessly when Zer0 tugs at the hair at the back of his scalp. “Something you can’t talk about, or…?”

 

“Everyone is dead. The pay was mediocre. I brought you flowers.”

 

“Oh yeah?” Rhys tries to focus past the sensation of those skilled fingers slipping down the back of his neck.

 

“Yes. But a skag ate them when my back was turned.”

 

Laughter bubbles up from deep in Rhys' belly and he can’t even find it in himself to be disappointed. “Of course it did,” he says, leaning back into the cup of Zer0’s palm. “This is Pandora.”

 

“Romance isn’t dead; I slayed the skag to free them. Then, reconsidered.”

 

“I appreciate the thought,” Rhys assures. “And the… the whole… attempt to get them back. Y'know, I think I actually appreciate you _not_ bringing me half-digested flowers even more.”

 

“They were gross,” Zer0 agrees.

 

The thumb at his mouth is back, and Rhys kisses it without a thought. “So, I need to… probably finish tuning up my arm, and you… want to shower? Eat? Sleep?”

 

“Yes,” Zer0 says.

 

“Well, I don’t have the willpower to move away from your magic fingers first, so that’s gotta be your battle.”

 

The bright red frown Zer0 projects puts a smile on Rhys’ face so wide, remnants of half the pizza stuck between his teethcould probably be seen from Elpis.

  
It’s cool, though; Zer0’s too saturated in blood and skag guts to judge.

 

Or... maybe not. If anyone was likely to have weird hypocritical double standards about personal hygiene, it was probably a Vault Hunter.

 

"I'm just gonna... go brush my teeth," Rhys says, shifting uncomfortably in Zer0's grip. Tilting their head, Zer0 seems to consider this. "Yeah, I know I said you were gonna have to pull back first, but I'm probably going to think about what is or isn't visible between my teeth until I melt into a puddle of self-consciousness and entrails, so I'm just gonna..."

 

"Broccoli."

 

"Whuh?"

 

"A sprig of broccoli. It's barely noticeable. Please try not to melt."

 

Rhys pats Zer0's chest and disentangles himself from their hold. "Yep. Great. Thank you. I've changed my mind; the battle is mine, and now I'm winning. I'm just gonna softly bang my head against the bathroom wall for a couple minutes to get over the fact that there's just a haiku about the food between my teeth just... out there, floating around in the universe. Because apparently, romance isn't dead."

 

Once he returns a suitable amount of time later (you know, enough time for someone dying slowly of humiliation to brush his teeth and wash his face and question his embarrassment of an existence in the mirror), the last of the pizza has disappeared, and Zer0 sits sprawled over the far side of the couch. A blinking series of Zs flash out at Rhys, and he lets out a slow breath himself.

 

The slow rise and fall of Zer0's chest lulls him and he catches himself staring, tugged into a hypnotic sort of lethargy himself.

 

Softly, softly, he lowers himself to the couch beside Zer0, half ready to die by a swift jab to the throat. The blinking Zs disappear, but Zer0 doesn't move.

 

Rhys inches closer, stifling a yawn, and only then does Zer0 lift an arm. Without a second thought, Rhys tucks himself against Zer0's side. It's not particularly comfortable, and he's definitely going to wake up in the morning with a stiff neck and an ache in his spine, but honestly? He's full of pizza, and his super cool Vault Hunter partner has an arm tucked around his shoulder and a hand in his hair, and nobody's actively trying to kill him, so.

 

Stiff necks and achy backs are a problem for future Rhys; present Rhys is allowed his little indulgences.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Joanna Newsom’s “En Gallop!”: _Never get so attached to a poem you forget truth that lacks lyricism; never draw so close to the heat that you forget that you must eat._
> 
>    
> Inquire about fic requests [here!](http://wardencommando.tumblr.com/ask)  
> If you are so inclined, feel free to follow [my Tumblr](http://wardencommando.tumblr.com/).


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